


Love Is A Crime

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with Poison Ivy, Clark has something new to occupy himself with. Bruce struggles with his part in things and the best way to apologize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crime

It’s not my fault. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Once I know what I have to do, I will do it. That’s what my life has been about, doing what I have to. The Kryptonite laced instruments are ready to go, though they won’t be needed for some time. I have only to prepare myself. Find the core problem and fix it. Took the whole day off, from everything and everybody, to figure it all out. I try to, need to, analyze this, but keep running into the feelings of it. Once more into the breach, and all that.

Brucie had just been dropped off at the Manor and was expecting a quiet dinner alone before changing. All that Brucie crap had really been getting to me, hostile takeover bid from LutherCo, idiot in the accounting department who thought he could steal from me, and the imbecile on the board who thought he could seduce me and get Fox’s job. I was looking forward to a good meal and somebody bad to take it out on. I greeted Alfred and started to say something as I walked toward the smell of something wonderful. Instead I got a blur of blue and red, strong arms holding me, carrying me upstairs. 

I knew who it was and what he was doing, what I didn’t know was why. Why was married, straight Clark throwing me on my bed? Why was he pulling my clothes off with naked lust on his face? Why was he naked, on top and kissing me? Why the hell was I kissing him back? This is where my analytical powers start to fail me. Emotions and wants rise up and it gets hard… more difficult to squash them back down every time. 

Let’s go with ‘what I should have done.’ I should have kicked him in that naked, throbbing erection with my name written on it. Again with the emotions and wanting! 

I should have fought him off of me, ran to the cave and my only defense. As ‘happy’ as he was to see me, I probably wouldn’t have gotten very far, but I should have at least tried. I could even have tried talking to him; that’s what usually works with him. Played hard to get or held out until he explained, so I’d still have a modicum of respectability. I see the way the JL looks at me now. Blaming me, the man that took Superman out of the game. 

I’d be fine with that, in a little while, except for the looks they gave me when they first found out. ‘Superman had his pick of partners from across the galaxy, and he went for that’ or ‘I don’t care what Superman says, Batman obviously influenced him in some way.’ How did they all know it was me anyway? I have enough going on without concerning myself with what they think about me, but dragging Superman’s name through my mud… Well, it’s a crime, and I punish criminals. Later. Right now I have to figure this out. 

Where was I? Clark, naked, throbbing, gorgeous, and coming at me. Right. I didn’t do what I should have done, so how do I categorize what I did do? I pulled him to me, with all my strength. Finally, somebody who I didn’t have to hide from. I mean, hide my strength from. No, that’s not what I meant and I know it. Clark sees me, even when the Bat threatens to take over. He won’t let the Bat get away with crap, and he won’t let me retreat behind Brucie. At first I hated it, but something shifted and suddenly, I needed it. Another thing I’ve never been able to analyze successfully. No, I will figure this out! I’ll just have to move past the feeling of our erections trapped between us, so close together I’m still not sure which one was mine. 

Right, ok. Move past the grinding, blessed friction, and that shouldn’t be all it takes, but it was for both of us. There was semen on my stomach, hot and sticky. Part of me wondered what his motility count was. The rest of my thinking ability was much more concerned with how long it would take to fill up again. The majority won the vote, so I rolled on top and set out to give him the best blow job of his life. I was gratified with how quickly it filled up again, and promised that minority that I would save some for a sperm sample. Instead I swallowed it all, and licked up any that leaked out. 

Clark looked like he was coming down off of whatever had done this to him, but I needed, no, wanted, no damn it, I needed to make it last! Besides, I already had two fingers in there, it wouldn’t have been fair to my dick to not let it explore as well. I really am a very fair man. Whatever sense of normalcy he was getting back is shattered as I find he has a prostate gland back there. I know from the way he’s losing it that he’s never played with it before. 

I don’t last as long as I would like, because it was just so glorious, but he’s on his third trip so my fluid is all it takes. I take my time before pulling away, committing this once in a lifetime event to memory. Beside him on the bed, I breathe until I feel I can force my voice to sound only mildly curious. Afraid to look at him, lest I find I’m ready to go again, I stare at the pointlessly ornate ceiling. 

“So what brought this on?” 

“Poison Ivy.” 

“Is it gone?” I wait while he listens to his body, checking for things that shouldn’t have been there. If our positions were reversed, I would have lied my head off. ‘No Clark, it’s not gone. I think you need to ravish me for the next six hours or something.’ But that’s me, and he’s everything a Boy Scout wants to be. When he sighs, I expect bad news. 

“Nope, it’s still affecting me.” I look down and see some very good news rising to meet me. I should have suggested a shower as soon as he said it was Ivy’s love dust. Instead I forget about patrolling and only offer the shower when I’m in desperate need of it myself. A long, hot shower, even after all the water was cold. 

All in all, I get maybe three hours of sleep before Brucie’s lunch meeting with the world’s most un-seductive board member. Figuring I’ll only be rid of him when I can prove his incompetence, I transfer the thief from accounting to his division. When his activities come to light, his manager can get fired for not noticing. A sneaky bastard move, but what else would you expect of somebody who knowingly sleeps with a married man? 

I honestly figured he would tell her, Poison Ivy, not my will, sorry, words, talking, use superpowers to provide news scope, all’s forgiven. When he started acting funny, I thought maybe he hadn’t. Keeping secrets binds him up that way; secrets keep me alive. He got over it, went back to competitive eating with the Flash, and doing his best to support the small farmers of the world with the fund I had established to put food on the Watchtower. So fine, when I saw the bulge in his ridiculously thin (and bright) costume, I thought it was a result of his renewed interest in eating. My mind didn’t automatically go _there._ Why would it? 

Still, fight, bad guy throws bomb, last desperate move, explosion. That kind of stuff I can analyze during a board meeting. This emotional crap is what I’m working on now. Anyway, I dived out of the way and would have (probably) been fine, but big blue just had to come to the rescue. Wall on top, then him, then me. A position I’d been surprised to find I enjoyed when he was under Ivy’s influence, without the wall. His legs covered mine, his straight arms making his torso a debris umbrella for my vital organs. 

Due to the impact of the explosion, my hands were in no way following instructions from my brain. Roaming across Clark’s chest was their idea of how to relax after a near death experience. I don’t know how much that wall weighed, but he could have left anytime. I don’t know what he would have done if my hands had continued their journey south, but I found the lump before I could get that far. Even with the gloves, it felt wrong. It didn’t have the wiggly squishiness of a beer gut. 

“Clark, what the hell is that?” 

“What?” He looked down to see what I was referring to, like my hands weren’t probing it, and debris fell on my head. 

“Get rid of the wall.” A sheepish grin, and he shoved it away as he stood. He reached out a hand to help me up, and I accepted it because I knew it was a good excuse to stand close to him. And talk, not just to marvel in his presence or anything. I glanced around before bracketing the lump with my hands and asking again. “What is this?” 

He looked at it like he hadn’t noticed it before, probed it a little and then shrugged at me. “Beer gut?” 

“You don’t drink.” 

“Deer gut? Pa’s been out hunting a lot lately.” That pun earned him one of the looks I usually reserve for Plastic Man. “Right, I’ll have J’onn check it out when we get back.” 

Reluctantly, I let go and make sure the cleanup progresses apace. But I stalk him until he gets J’onn and enters medical. The last thing the world needs is Superman with some weird space creature popping out of his guts. I never saw _Alien_ but I’ll go to my grave before I tell Dick I enjoyed it when he forced me to watch _Spaceballs._ I’m setting the teleporter for Gotham when Clark emerges from medical. I had planned on waiting on the results, but they were in there for almost four hours. 

He stops when he sees me at the controls, and blushes so deep I think his toes must have changed color. He does a wonderful fish impersonation as his mouth works without making any sounds. J’onn let him out of medical, so I figure he’s not dangerous. I gesture grandly to the pad and ask pleasantly, well pleasantly for me anyway. 

“Gotham’s set, but I could change it to Metropolis.” 

Clark develops a sudden interest in the lighting fixtures and mutters something. I choose to interpret it as ‘why thank you, most generous and gracious Bruce with manners that would make Alfred proud. Gotham will be fine; the flight will give me a chance to pluck kittens from trees.’ Though that might have more syllables than metro… goth… whate… fine. 

So I put us both in Gotham, as he’s obviously not ready to tell me about the lump. I give him a jab to the shoulder and head for downtown. It was night, and there was work to do. He flew slowly toward Metropolis to talk to Lois. I can see that conversation now, well hear it anyway. The bug I put on Clark with my left hand while I jabbed with my right only recorded audio; it was what I had on me. 

“Lois, I’m glad you’re home. I need to talk to you.” 

“Make it quick, Smallville. I’ve got a source to track down.” 

“It’s important.” A heavy sigh, but it didn’t come from Clark, that much I know. “It’s about why I’ve been so sick lately. J’onn ran some tests, and I had the AI at the fortress confirm it through a link up with the Watchtower.” 

“Space flu? Because if it’s not life or death, I need to go.” 

“It’s life, Lois.” 

“It’s life? What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of sickness is life?” 

Clark snorted at that, probably thinking it’s the kind of thing I would say. Because that’s what I thought when Lois said it, though I would have meant it in a different way. “Morning sickness is the start of life.” 

“Get off it, Clark. We’re having enough problems without bringing a baby into it. Besides, as I’ve repeatedly told you, I’m not ready to be a mommy yet.” 

“Well, Lois, apparently I’m ready, because I’m the one with morning sickness.” 

Really? That’s what it takes to shut that woman up for a solid minute? Of course, any enjoyment of that silence is ruined because I know what comes when she finds her voice. Her voice rises to a pitch that sets off a squeal of feedback in my equipment. Objects begin to shatter against invulnerable skin and Clark just takes it, hoping it will make her feel better. 

“Which of your little tight wearing buddies is the father? Cause if you try and claim it’s me you’d better have a damn good biology lesson up your sleeves! I’ve heard the rumors you know, about what goes on in that little space station of yours. Heard ‘em and never once believed you were all up there circle jerking, or having orgies in masks, or trafficking in alien sex slaves! Shows what a fool I was! Or did you have a special favorite, someone who’s dick was the perfect size for the super-asshole?” 

What would I give to have heard Clark’s response to that question? He doesn’t speak, so she finds her own answers. The objects have stopped, so now only her words can hurt him. And they do hurt him, I can tell when he finally tries to explain. 

“Oh, yes, and I know just who it was. Do his ears grow when you jack him off? Did he have a special zipper installed so you could service him without getting naked? So he could fuck you over, just a little more literally than he always has?” 

“That’s enough, Lois.” 

“Proof enough too! You don’t have the backbone to stand up for yourself, but he’s a saint? An entire gaggle of merry men and scantily clad women on your speed dial, and you went with him? Was it because you knew it would hurt me the most? And now what? Do you expect me to stay home and raise his baby while he tries to knock you up again? ‘Cause that ain’t happening, farmboy!” 

“It was Poison Ivy! You know she can affect me, just like she does humans.” 

“Her love dust made you temporarily gay? You got so dizzy your butt fell in front of every leather clad dick in town? Why were you even in Gotham, don’t you have enough sense to stay out of that bat-shit crazy town?” 

“I got a lung full of the stuff and my friend helped me. He always helps me, and this is the unexpected result.” 

“I don’t believe for a second that this was the first time or last time! If you weren’t down here looking for a babysitter, you’d be letting him pound into you now! You’re the fastest thing on Earth, and you were so horny you couldn’t make it home to me? Well, he’s a jolly good friend then.” 

“You weren’t home, because you never are. You probably wouldn’t have let me touch you, no matter what my condition. You don’t have any interest in me, anymore.” 

His voice is sad and quiet, the hurt so apparent. He wants to know why she loves Clark and Superman, but forgets about the person stuck in the middle. She doesn’t understand that distinction because she’s always Lois. I hear keys jangle and heels clacking angrily across the floor. She opens the door and stands in it to speak. 

“Think what you want. I need time to think about this, so leave me alone.” 

Clark sighs, but does as she said. He gets to work the next morning and finds the divorce papers on his desk, citing irreconcilable differences. He told me about the divorce papers, the next evening as I prepared to go out. I asked him what the fight was about, and he handed me the bug. 

“Well it’s not like you were going to tell me.” I don’t even think about the words or the tone, that’s how I am when I’m not playing a part. I decided to take everything out of the belt and put it back in again. It’ll give my hands something to do, which helps keep me calm. It wouldn’t be right for me to be angry when I was clearly in the wrong, and anger is my response to most things. 

“I needed to tell Lois first, she’s my wife.” 

“Please, she didn’t even notice the lump or the fact that you were sick. Do you know what I would have done when I saw you puking?” 

“No, Bruce, I don’t. I never could predict you.” He actually sounds kind of amused, though I can’t imagine at what. “Besides, it was just nausea, no actual vomiting.” 

“Well, that’s a valid excuse.” Sarcasm is a subtle skill, one she doesn’t possess. He sighs and tries to get back on the track I’m actively sabotaging. 

“Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Me!” 

“I’m here to help, I’m your little fuc…”

“Bruce! Baby on board!” 

Really, I have to restrict my vocabulary for a lump? “Fine, I’m your little elf here to make shoes while you sleep.” 

“Seriously, Bruce, why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Are we back here again?” 

“Where?” An irritated sigh, so I thought I only had to push a little more for him to get so angry he’d leave. 

“I needed, and you gave. You don’t exactly have a reputation for giving things away…”

“Sure I do!” A not so subtle change in the voice to help him understand. “Brucie has a reputation for being very generous…”

“I didn’t pick Brucie up out of his hallway!” Hormones must be affecting him already if he’s interrupting without an emergency. “I came to Bruce. Why didn’t you fight me, trick me into the cave, and make me tell you what was going on so you could fix it?” 

Fine, the farmboy had backed me into a neat little verbal trap. He was always trapping me in ways I didn’t expect. Like the lying. Early on, he learned to listen and hear my lies, so I quit telling blatant lies. At some point, I stopped lying to him altogether, so any lie now tells him the truth in its own way. How could I have seen that trap coming? 

“Bruce?” 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t think anymore gas pellets will fit into that compartment.” Fine, so I’ve spent five minutes trying to cram a gas pellet into an overstuffed pouch, I’m only human. 

“Then I’m ready for patrol. Talk to you later.” I look up from deeply concentrating on fastening the belt to see, not only has he not gotten the hint to leave, he’s a lot closer. I think he might be looking past the lenses, because of the strange look in his eyes. 

“Bruce, are you sure it’s not because you wanted it?” My hands are reaching for him again, the betrayers. When they are behind his head, I manage to keep them from pulling and he doesn’t lean. I reach for the will that brought me back after Bane broke me. My voice is so soft; I’m surprised even he can hear it. 

“Go fight for your wife. The lump will come in its own time.” Walking away from him shouldn’t have been harder than relearning to walk, but it was. I didn’t allow myself to check my surveillance for when he left, I settled for knowing he wasn’t there when I got back. Most of my time since then has been spent trying not to dwell on what I kicked out of my cave that day. Had to be done, even Brucie wasn’t a big enough bastard to break up a marriage for a little sex. But I had, and had got caught in divine retribution kind of way. 

Next time I was at the Watchtower, I had made J’onn explain it to me. He used clinical terms, which I appreciated. Internally, Kryptonians have a little bit of both and can alternate between the two in order to procreate in the general absence of acceptable mates, like certain salamanders or fish. Fine, Clark hadn’t known either, so we were both kind of innocent, kind of guilty. But what J’onn refused to look me in the eye and explain was how Ivy’s pollen had kick started this change. In Earth species, it took time for the female fish to realize she was the biggest one around and there was an unacceptable male/female ratio. Then more time for the male reproductive organs to grow, so even if Clark had bits of both ready to go, there should have been a time delay. 

I asked J’onn, the soul of straightforward honesty, and he prevaricated! He danced around the answer like it was a radioactive cockroach on cocaine. So I opened my carefully constructed mental shields and sent him the image of what my portable welding torch could do to his green skin. Any of the anger that leaked out of me had more to do with the whole situation than the fact he was one of the few members of the JL whose ears grew at will. I hadn’t known Clark had a thing for J’onn, but if they lived as long as they were likely to, they might as well have each other. It must have been the anger that made him shut down completely. 

“That is something you will have to discuss with Kal-el.” 

I responded by showing him what he would look like with the bat-symbol burned into his forehead, and he took the cowardly way out of sinking through the floor. Like asking Clark would work! Gee Clark, how did you switch from pitching to catching in the five minutes it took you to get from Lois’s bed to mine? He couldn’t even look at me and tell me what I’d done to him; he’s now going to provided me with specific biological details? 

He wants to know why I worked it out of his system, instead of trying the antidotes in the cave. I’d like to know that too. I also want to know what he shared with Lois so that she had him in J’onn’s arms. Why did he come to me instead? Scheduling compatibility? Lois was busy, J’onn was off world and I was in between jobs? I was the only one he called friend who had no-strings-attached-sex? He must believe the crap he’s been shoveling about Brucie all these years. 

Hell, this is like a Joker case, where the why doesn’t really matter, because it won’t make sense when you find it. The lump matters. Baby. The baby matters. Clark’s baby. My baby. Our baby? Why doesn’t that feel right? Because for it to be ours, we’d have to be a couple? Because, at the bottom of it all, it is my fault? The fact is, my friend came to me for help. I knew something was wrong and took advantage. So am I going to the second circle of hell for letting my lust get away from me? No, the ninth circle, reserved for betrayers. He was under the influence of something, and I wasn’t. He wasn’t able to offer and I took. Legally, that’s date rape. 

I’m almost triumphant when that last puzzle piece falls into place, before the emotions hit me. That’s why I put off thinking about this for so long, allowing myself to picture every bit of that evening except the fact that Clark wasn’t a willing participant. I punish criminals, and now I am one. So how do I punish myself? The same way I always have, find what I want and deny it to myself. What I want deepest in my soul is obvious to me right now. The plan is an easy one to form, finding the will to go through with it will take some time. I just hope he recognizes my apology for what it is. He can be kind of dense sometimes. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Superman’s last official JL meeting before his due date and maternity leave turns into a baby shower. I should have expected this, instead I got so caught up in my own gift I forgot others might feel generous. He’s been careful the last five months, limiting his activities and keeping out of the public eye. He presided over the meeting in jeans and flannel and now goofs off with the rest of them. Right now, the might of the JL is fighting each other to get the most clothespins in some stupid game. I didn’t even know they still made clothespins. 

The Daily Planet staff has stopped making fun of the beer gut Clark Kent has been working on, so at least he doesn’t have to suffer through a second shower there. It had absolutely nothing to do with a new policy suggesting anybody who made fat jokes at any of my businesses got an unpaid week of sensitivity training. I wanted privacy after the meeting, to show Clark what I had for him. But everybody else here is giving him gifts, would it be appropriate to do this in front of everybody? Who the hell knows the protocol for this crappy situation? I don’t feel like doing it in front of everybody, so I won’t. 

But I decide that, so after all the other gifts are given they all turn away from Clark’s thanks to stare at me. The bastard who did this to Clark, and to them. While he’s on leave, I’ll be in charge. When he gets back to full duty, I’ll be out of here faster than he can fly. He’s run out of not-distracting-enough words and looks at me for help. Will he never learn? Those damn emotions flare as I reach for the bag, and the only thing I can do to keep from breaking down right here and now, is to throw the bag at him. My efforts at control have turned my voice into an angry growl. 

“Enjoy.” I don’t understand the look he’s giving me, like he really expected me to help eat the cake with blue and pink baby booties dancing across it. It doesn’t matter, because I’m out the door and down the hall before they start to talk about me, the Bat-bastard. I could stay and watch his reaction on the security systems, but Gotham sounds better. Maybe I’ll be safe there, with a mass breakout from Arkham to keep me from feeling this. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

No mass breakout, but still a good night for not thinking. Cass even looks like she had a workout before she heads back to her place. Not much detecting and a lot of beat-downs. Let the heart and brain atrophy for a night, it might do them good. A hot shower and I just might sleep tonight, a pleasant thought before getting out of the car. I don’t expect to be grabbed by flannel-man so I fight back. The hand to the soft cartilage of the nose hurts my hand and helps me realize who flannel-man is. 

A very angry Clark is peeling off the cape, cowl and belt. Removing the mask is sometimes the only way to get to Bruce, I understand that better than he does, so I let him do it. When he handcuffs my hands together and hangs me from a metal hook in the ceiling of the cave that I didn’t install, I start to get worried. He drops down and comes back with the bag from earlier. He shakes it under my nose and growls at me. He growls at me! Nice guy Kent driven to growling by Bruce the Bastard. 

“What’s this?” 

“The surgical implements J’onn will need to take the baby out. Enhanced with kryptonite so they are in lead lined boxes only certain people can open.” I’ll admit to confusion here, we agreed to the need months ago so I would have time to fabricate them. He moves closer, real anger burning in those eyes. It takes so much to make him angry. Delayed onset post-traumatic stress disorder from what I did to him? Or had he felt this way all along and neither Lois nor J’onn had even noticed? Lois, ignorant bitch, naturally she missed it. But J’onn is a freaking telepath, how could he not know about this? 

“I took those out. Gave them to J’onn. He was very pleased with the work you did. But him, me and everybody else in the JL, and most of the world has no idea what to make of the papers in the bag!” He was trying for a rational discussion, but was snarling when he said papers. I thought all hope of a rational discussion went out the window when he hung me from the ceiling like a side of meat. 

“OK, I thought the papers were self-explanatory, or else I would have made notes.” Wrapping my hands around the metal hook relieves some of the pressure on my shoulders, so I can try for a lawyer tone. “What particular issues would you like to discuss? Do you not feel the trust fund is adequate? The ten million should provide enough interest to put the baby through any college in the world. The annuity payment to you is without restriction, for whatever needs you may encounter. It’s set up to be self perpetuating, so all you have to do is collect the direct deposit, but I could set up a visit to the lawyer and accountant who set up the funds to answer any questions you have.” 

He sees my discomfort, he must know how badly I want to relax a wrist, slide out of the cuffs and fall to the floor. He’ll catch me, because even this angry he can’t let somebody die, not even me. But he just stares at me, like he can’t believe he didn’t see me before. Thought I was a nice guy, a friend, somebody to go to in a time of need. He’s an idiot. A vengeful idiot who can fly. I try not to sigh, because I know it will just increase the pain in my shoulders, but I deserve whatever’s coming. It’s my own damn fault for letting my want override every brain cell I posses. 

“No, my salary and twenty-five million should adequately cover the needs of one child, even in a changing economy.” He’s getting better with that sarcasm all the time. Not bad for a farm boy who barely knew the meaning of the word until he tripped onto one of my cases. “Now explain the other papers to me.” 

“You’re kidding right?” I can’t help the insult in that tone. “It says right at the top, wavier of parental rights. I signed in all the right places. If you stay with Lois, she signs as the mother.” 

“What if my divorce from Lois was final two weeks ago?” 

“If you go with J’onn, you sign the other set of papers however you want to. When they figure out gay marriage, you’ll both have a greater claim than I will.” 

“Who brought J’onn into this?” 

“What?” 

“What does J’onn have to do with any of this, or the lump as you so charmingly put it?” 

“When you told Lois, she asked if he ears grew when you…” I pause, for some reason unable to bring up that mental image I took so long to squash. “I guess I assumed it was J’onn on flimsy evidence, I just thought you hung out with him more than Plastic Man or…”

I stop speaking, because Clark is holding his belly, um, baby as he laughs. I let it subside before pulling up the snark survival skills I have developed over the years. “Well, maybe putting up with that guy is a new power. At least that’s what I’ll have to tell O’Brian when I see him.” 

He leans closer, trying to look mad at the comment but I still see humor in his eyes. “What if it’s not O’Brian?” 

“If I have to make up parental wavier forms for every member of the league with ears, I’ll need use of my arms.” He shakes his head and grins at me and I’m really tempted to kick him. But I don’t, because he’s carrying our, um, his child and we don’t yet know if it will be enough like him. If there is any sort of deity above, it will be more like him than me. 

“What would you do to Tim if he based an entire case on one overheard phone call?” I’m thrown by the change in topic; it must be the distraction of the pain in my shoulders. 

“I’d clip his wings for a solid month of remedial training. Why?” 

“Then you can consider yourself similarly grounded, until you learn not to take one conversation, without a frame of reference, as proof of anything.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” He leans in, far closer than he needs to, and whispers at me. 

“Let me jack you off, to see if your ears grow.” He’s developed a new power, because I think I feel actual words walking over my skin. And it takes far longer than it should to find a witty comeback. 

“What?” 

“You remember when they first started writing stories about you in the Daily Planet? All those snide remarks about Gotham’s drug problem, the silly cartoons about what you looked like? Lois didn’t know I knew you, so she made jokes about the bat-ears.” 

“Hey!” I start to protest, a lot of effort went into my suit and I’m prouder of it than I like to admit. He cuts me off with a fingertip on my lips. 

“I know, they’re full of technologically advanced gizmos that help you fight crime better. You didn’t make them that way just because you thought it would look cool. Anyway, Lois noticed that each picture made the ears longer. So she printed up an image of Batman on one sheet of paper, and used another ten for his ears. For an impromptu birthday party, she made a pin-the-ears-on-Batman game.” 

“Oh, now I’m going to have to hurt her.” Pin-the-ears-on-Batman games? That was just mean. Maybe I could sue her for misrepresentation of my image. Now he’s staring at me like I’m an idiot again. Why does he persist in this game? 

“Bruce, I think you’re missing the point.” I force back the images of his penis point that I miss very much indeed. “When she asked if his ears grew, she was asking why I kept running to you. She never understood why I hung out with you. At times, I didn’t know. But I don’t feel so bad, since you didn’t either.” 

“I’m not the telepath; I’m not supposed to know what you are feeling, or why you do things.” 

“Granted. So should I bring the telepath down here to show you what I’m feeling? Would you believe it then?” 

“Clark. Look at yourself. Look at what I did to you. It’s Kryptonian pregnancy hormones making you forget what I did to you.” He starts to laugh at me, then gets a funny look and a frown. 

“Strange. You always say what you mean, even if you occasionally make it meaner or more hostile than what you need to. But you are also a master puppeteer of the truth. So when you say ‘what I did to you’ do you mean look what we did, or that you did something wrong?” 

I try to make my face freeze, and then my body. No reaction at all, because having to admit it would be worse than understanding it. Except the damn man listens to my body, he’s frowning because he knows I’ve gone all stiff. 

“I don’t have any blood in my arms. If I promise to continue speaking with you, would the ground be too much to ask?” I really try for pleasant this time, instead of pleasant for me. A good distraction is just what the target wants it to be, and Clark likes pleasant things. He gives me the unfocused look that say’s he checking out my body, in a biological system kind of way. The air is full of flannel, something is strapped to my ankles and I’m now hanging upside-down from the same hook. My numb arms dangle under my head. Once the numbness is gone, they’ll be filled with blood fighting gravity. Not to mention the effect of all that blood on my thinking ability. “Oh, this is much better.” 

He ignores the sarcasm to turn upside-down himself, so we are face to face once again. Even that sexy little spit curl defies gravity; I’m going to have to find a way to cut that thing off. “You think you crossed a line. Which line did you cross, Bruce? Tell me that and I’ll consider letting you down.” 

So which agony do I want to last longer? The pain in my arms and feet, or the pain in my soul? I’d flip a stupid coin if I had one. I close my eyes, because I can’t hide this behind the cowl he pulled off. “Clark, you were under Ivy’s influence and I took what I wanted instead of helping you. Since we know each other and you did not give informed consent, that’s legally, what’s known as, technically, date rape.” 

Silence greets my admission, so I take a peak under an eyelid. Flannel-man is still there, he didn’t leave me here to die. Somebody in the cave is speaking, and it doesn’t sound like Clark. It can’t be me, because I don’t say crap like that in a weak, panicky voice. 

”I’m a bastard and I just take what I want and I’m sorry because I took something that should have been special and made it base and degrading and I can’t give it back and then I find out you’ll be saddled with a reminder but don’t worry you can always get anything you need from Alfred and I’ll quit the league since they all know what a bastard I am and I hate the way they look at me and you’ll never have to see me again unless you don’t want the baby I thought you did since you were going to have it but if you change your mind it will always have a home with me even though I don’t deserve it I want it and I shouldn’t get what I want I’ve given you everything I have to give, now I can get out of your life.” 

“Bruce! No wonder you’ve been such an asshole lately!” He moves forward to wrap me in a hug. Stockholm syndrome and PTSD? Upside-down, he flies us upward, so my feet come off the hook. Somewhere between here and the floor, he rights us and I can’t tell when because my body is almost as confused as my head. I think he’s laid me on the cot kept in the cave but am distracted by his words. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was lying!” 

“You don’t lie. At least not like I do, and not when it matters.” He’s rubbing my arms gently to restore feeling without pins and needles, so the words come out before I know what he’s talking about. “When did you lie to me?” 

“At the conception! You asked if ‘it’ had worn off, and I said no. The pollen had worn off, but what I feel for you doesn’t wear off. So I told you I was still affected. You responded so, um, vigorously I thought you knew it.” 

His words, his tone, melt my brain. I know what I want him to be talking about, but my brain can’t handle it if he doesn’t mean that, so it shuts down. Which leaves my shriveled, useless heart to tell me what to do. Hell, I’m in trouble now. 

“I wanted you, and I thought it was the only way I would get you.” Scared, honest words spoken to the face of the man lying in the air beside the narrow cot. All the blood is back to its usual path in my body, but I don’t tell him to stop rubbing me. He’s so trusting, but I have to make he see that I’m not trustworthy. “But I took, when you needed me to give.” 

In the silence, I have time to be glad my hands are still cuffed. They can’t escape without instructions from my brain, so they aren’t reaching for him or begging him for forgiveness. When he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice I can’t identify. 

“Bruce, I want you to listen to me as carefully as you would listen to a bomb you’re disarming. Kyrptonians are sequentially and simultaneous hermaphroditic. I have a dual set of reproductive organs but am predominantly male. When I understood that my preferred mate was male, my female organs started activating. I didn’t know this, I didn’t understand it, because that damn AI at the fortress never volunteers information. And the Jor-el program didn’t know humans were so socially set into one role or the other. The point is, it takes time for this process to take.” 

I had wondered about that, but I don’t want to interrupt to point it out. 

“Lois and I had problems, and we were fighting to save our marriage. I was covering one of your parties for the paper, and some slimy git put his hand on your butt. I waited, but you didn’t break his arm or tell him to get lost or anything. I told myself it was playacting for Brucie’s reputation and nothing more. But I couldn’t get it out of my head, and couldn’t get interested in Lois anymore. Six months later, I was coming to Gotham to talk to you and heard a cry for help. I responded and got a lungful of Poison Ivy’s pixie dust for my trouble. I went to you because that’s where I wanted to be.” 

He’s looking at me, waiting for a response. What can I say? I want what he offers, but never thought I could have it. Now it’s so close, and I’m scared to mess this up. Feelings aren’t something I’ve ever been able to find the words for. And, somehow, it’s easier to believe I raped Superman then it is to believe what he’s saying. Either way, I’m still a bastard who knowingly slept with a married man. “The divorce, premeditated, final?” 

“Yes, the lump that broke the camel’s back or something.” There’s a fire in his eye that’s distracting him from his Kryptonian biology lesson. I don’t know if that bodes well or not. “Which you would know if you had talked to me since you sent me out of here. The entire JL was waiting for you to step up and accept responsibility, and you threw a bag of surgical instruments at me.” 

“Papers showed my responsibility, took away my wants.” That fire in his eye is distracting me from forming coherent sentences. That doesn’t bode well at all. 

“So justice is fair and balanced scales? Turnabout is fair play, and other cliché’s as well?” He straddles me and I close my eyes to fight back the image of last time he was like that. It’s not very effective. My cuffed hands are picked up and laid on his sun warmed skin. Now their stroking serves a purpose, telling me which naked part of him I’m touching. The lump I forced on him, or the baby we created? “There is a traditional punishment for what you’ve done.” 

My hands fly off his stomach while my eyes snap open at his words. Apparently, he removed all of his clothes and not just his shirt. I should ask why he did that. “Whatever you want Clark.” 

My hands decide to do what their told just as my speaking ability betrays me? And what’s with the way he’s looking at me? 

“My due date is next Wednesday. I want Alfred to organize things for this weekend, he has taste. And I want him and my father holding shotguns, as an inside joke for the JL members on the guest list. You will pay to get everybody, first class at least; to a state that recognizes gay marriage.” 

Yep, my speaking ability has completely deserted me. And from the look he is giving me it’s been a while since I spoke or a thought entered my head. What do you say when you are convinced everything you wanted is forever beyond your reach, and somebody hands it to you? I have no idea, but fortunately, I’m a man of action. I toss off the cuffs and pull us together for a kiss. A real kiss, without sex pollen in the air. Blood is rerouting, but I can form words again when I pull away. 

“Get me out of this suit, lover.” He sags against me for a moment to whisper in my ear. 

“Oh, thank Rao!” Then he’s up and my armor is shredding away from me. “Do you have any idea how horny you can get when pregnant?” 

The fire in his eye’s now, defiantly bodes well. Thank God, indeed! 


	2. Love in the First Degree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark's convinced Bruce it was meant to be, but then Bruce goes AWOL for the birth.   
> Clark's POV of Love is a Crime and the aftermath

Pain surges through me, pulling me from wonderful dreams. When it becomes manageable, bearable, I reach for the body that should be beside me. My head spins as I sit up and look around the darkened room, only to confirm he’s not here. It pisses me off, so I have something to fight back the pain with when it returns. I try to convince myself there’s a perfectly good reason for it as I head for medical. Somehow J’onn knows and he sinks into medical just as I enter.

“Where?” It’s all I manage to growl out before the pains kick in again, but he knows what I mean. 

“Only for a planet wide emergency would he have left, you know that.” His voice is soft and only chides a little as he helps me onto the exam table. 

I lay back and he opens the robe I don’t remember putting on, the modesty is really ingrained in me. At least I get to keep my boxers on for this, unlike women who have to put their most private anatomy on display. 

“When I suggested that I assist with this emergency, Batman opened his shields to show me just what he would do to me if I left you here alone. I suspect the image was one he thought up when he believed we were together.” 

I could have laughed at that, if a resurge in pain hadn’t made me stop breathing for a minute. That Bruce sure knows how to make people hurt, even when it’s unintentional. He hurt me so bad, worse even than this, and didn’t even know it. 

“Relax, Kal. I cannot give you anything for the pain, as you know, but take your mind out of your body to get you through this. I will assist.” The pain lessens as J’onn’s telepathy blocks most of it, even as he flips on the sunlamps. 

We’ve all decided my body would know what to do, so now I just have to let it. The Kryptonite laced surgical instruments are here, just in case. Bruce was supposed to be here to help, but for months I feared he wouldn’t. It was my fault, I knew better. I knew Bruce thought too much when he should have felt, but I never thought he would come to the conclusion he did. 

Fighting to save my marriage to Lois was exhausting me, in ways that no villain ever had. So I volunteered to cover a W.E. party, just to get away from her. Well, maybe I also hoped to talk to Bruce. Not about what Lois and I were going through, he would have slipped into Brucie just before he slipped away. A chance to talk to my friend about nothing in particular, without an emergency to distract us. One of his executives had been following him around like a puppy all evening. Tall, thin man with even thinner hair, with an uncanny resemblance to a balding ferret, finally cornering Brucie away from his group of sycophants. 

I had hoped Bruce got rid of them so we could talk, but this guy didn’t take the hint. He brushed a nonexistent bit of dirt off of Brucie’s shoulder, and then let that hand slid down to Bruce’s butt. I stopped breathing as I waited, but nothing happened. No controlled violence that Bruce was so good at, no disgust in the eyes, just a vague brushoff about doing lunch. He moved toward me, but his group was back and demanding attention. He sent me a one shoulder shrug and moved off, and I left as quickly as I could. 

There had always been guys in the groups that followed Brucie around, but I thought they were there to pick up his leftovers. Maybe it was my small town upbringing, but sometimes I had to be slapped across the face to notice subtle hints about alternative sexuality. Maybe, those guys were after Brucie too. Maybe, Bruce had sex with guys. Maybe, Bruce would be interested in having sex with me, because suddenly I found I was very interested in having sex with him! 

I fled that thought by heading to Lois, only to find I no longer had an interest in having sex with her. I tried to get that spark back, but after a long six months, I had given up and went to see Bruce. A few questions, a kiss to see if the hinted chemistry was there and I’d know what to do about Lois. Go back to her, or date Bruce until the divorce came through. 

Instead I got a scream for help from a guy urinating on plants in the park. Poison Ivy was explaining to him why that was a very bad idea when I grabbed him. If I was human, when I took in a deep breath of her pheromones, I probably would have taken the stranger in my arms. But Bruce had wormed his way into my thinking and heart, so I went to him. There was confusion on his face, but no hesitation in his response. When he got around to asking what was going on I was so ready to do it again that I told him what I thought he wanted to hear. All Ivy’s fault that he was sleeping with a married man, it had nothing to do with the fact I had been in love with him for years. 

At some point, Alfred brought up supper on a tray and left it outside the door. We ate, sprawled across each other, only to fuel up for another go. He didn’t even mention going out on patrol, and I haven’t been able to take a shower since without thinking about what he did to me in there. I was two hours late for work, and the pleased smile I couldn’t repress only angered Perry further as he berated me. 

There were things I had to do, responsibilities I had to take care of, so I didn’t let myself go to Bruce again. Told my parents about the problems with Lois, the impending divorce. Found and met with my divorce lawyer, had to work things out at work, where Lois and I had always been partners. And then I got sick. It was weird, because I don’t get sick in that way, but it was only nausea that came and went. More important things had my attention, and I did intend to go to the fortress or J’onn for a checkup. Instead I got so horny, at the slightest provocation, that all my free time was spent in the bathroom, reliving that one encounter with Bruce. Soon, I kept promising myself, soon I will go to Bruce and see what else he can do. 

We still managed to work together, until a building exploded. Batman was throwing himself into a depression in the dirt, but the wall was still aiming for him. Protecting him with my body was only natural, but his hands were caressing me. I was forcing my body not to respond when he spoke. I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, because the change was so subtle I hadn’t noticed. Much like the nausea, it was something I should have talked to J’onn about, but I was willing to forget about it. 

When we returned to the Watchtower, I could feel Bruce at the edge of my awareness. Fighting back the arousal his proximity evoked in me now was a blessed torture, until I had to go to medical or take him back to my room. I only went to medical because I promised him I would, and I knew he was too honorable to sleep with me while I was still married, and not affected by something. 

J’onn spent almost an hour examining me before rendering his verdict. His normally unflappable, unemotional voice was highly surprised. I was so surprised I fell off the table. “Kal-el, my analysis concludes you are approximately four months pregnant.” 

“What? Pregnant? How could I be pregnant? I’m a guy!” 

“I believe a consultation with the Fortress’s AI might provide assistance in determining that, but all the tests I can run here are coming back with the same result.” 

“Yes, consult the AI. We’ll do that!” My voice was filled with panic, so it took a while to get the AI to believe it’s me. More testing, confirmation of the results, explanations of how it’s possible and instructions on what to do take another two hours. Another hour is spent with me sitting in medical trying to absorb it, and asking myself how I’m going to tell Bruce. He doesn’t have sex nearly as often as people think he does, but when he does indulge he’s always careful. Doesn’t want to bring a child into a screwed up world, doesn’t want to have to do the honorable thing and marry someone who couldn’t handle Batman. I can handle Batman, but I don’t want him to resent me. I want Bruce to love me, like I love him. 

With a sigh and a list of instructions implanted in my photographic memory, I thank J’onn and head for the teleporter. Naturally, the last person I’m ready to face, the one I have no idea how to tell, the one who should have left two hours ago when it got dark in his city, is standing there. He sets us in Gotham and leaves without a word. 

I fly home and am honestly surprised to see Lois there. She’s dressed like an escort but she’s putting her recorder into her purse as I come in. I don’t know what story she’s working on, but telling her is easier than it should be. It’s a great excuse to end this disaster before it gets any worse and when she lashes out at me, I feel like I deserve it. 

I try not to give anything away in the face of her tirade, but she knows me better than I know myself. She knew coming into this marriage that one member of the JL captivated me more than the others. Had she thought I could swing that way, she would have known I was emotionally cheating on her long before we got married. I didn’t understand that Bruce was my soul-mate, any more than I understood that love is usually more complicated than sexual compatibility. I could have taken any insult she hurled at me, as the proof of my adultery was getting larger every day, but then she went after Bruce. I had to defend him; by making her see that I was at fault here, not him. 

She left the apartment door open as she left, letting anybody who came by see in and see me in costume. I walked over to shut the door behind her, and pulled the costume off at a human speed. Had I been going as fast as I normally did, I wouldn’t have felt the bug tucked into the belt. I was relieved when I saw it, Bruce knew and I didn’t have to figure out how to tell him! 

I put the bug under my socks and closed the drawer, hoping that would be enough to muffle any talking in case Lois came back. I didn’t expect her to, I expected Bruce to call. I hoped the phone would ring, and I would get to hear Bruce’s voice telling me how excited he was while asking me technical questions. When the phone didn’t ring, I let myself believe it was because he had recorded the conversation, and not listened to it yet. 

The divorce papers were on my desk the next morning, and they hurt me. I knew they were coming and expected them, but I still felt like such a failure. All four of my parents had only married once and I was an adulterer getting divorced. Not only that, I sign these papers and I’ll be a single mom! After work, I went to the farm to tell the Kents about the divorce, and left the baby for another visit. Then I picked up the bug and went to find Bruce. He was almost convincing in his innocent act when he asked what Lois and I had fought about. Loving his acting skill, I handed him the proof that he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Well it’s not like you were going to tell me.” 

His voice drops from Bruce to Batman as he growls at me. I’m startled by his defensive, angry response. He’s not looking at me as he plays with his belt, and I’m hurt. I thought he would pull me to him, promise me it would be alright, instead he can’t even look at me. I try to explain why I put him off while I fixed my life and get only anger and sarcasm. With a sigh, I shift tactics, trying to reach him by showing him a rational explanation doesn’t cover what we did. 

“Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Me!” 

“I’m here to help, I’m your little fuc…”

“Bruce! Baby on board!” I try for humor, try to show him that it wasn’t just because he was available. 

“Fine, I’m your little elf here to make shoes while you sleep.” 

“Seriously, Bruce, why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Are we back here again?” 

“Where?” 

An irritated sigh, as I figure out he’s trying to annoy me. Probably wants me to get so angry I leave and absolve him of any responsibility. I didn’t realize he didn’t want a child this bad, I thought he was afraid it would interfere with the mission. 

“I needed, and you gave. You don’t exactly have a reputation for giving things away…”

“Sure I do! Brucie has a reputation for being very generous…”

“I didn’t pick Brucie up out of his hallway!” I only have five months before the baby comes, I don’t have time to fight my way back from him hiding behind Brucie! “I came to Bruce. Why didn’t you fight me, trick me into the cave, and make me tell you what was going on so you could fix it?” 

He doesn’t answer and I’m left to wonder at his silence. He seems to be focused on his belt but isn’t even paying attention to what he is doing there. What is he so afraid of? Should the thought of a family and love be this scary? 

“Bruce?” 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t think anymore gas pellets will fit into that compartment.” 

“Then I’m ready for patrol. Talk to you later.” 

He must think that’s all it’s going to take to get rid of me, because he looks surprised when he looks up and I’m standing closer. I wish I had brought J’onn down here to tell me what is going through Bruce’s mind. I’m listening to every cell of his body, so I’ll know if he lies to me when I ask my next question. 

“Bruce, are you sure it’s not because you wanted it?” He puts his hands behind my head, and I need an answer to my question too badly to lean in and kiss him. I need him to tell me he didn’t think our night together was a mistake. He whispers at me in a voice dead of emotion. 

“Go fight for your wife. The lump will come in its own time.” His fluid grace is gone as he walks to the car, replaced by an unnatural stiffness. I lose track of time as I stand in the cave, trying to understand him. I let myself believe he just needs a little bit of time to adjust and make my way to an empty apartment. Lois came at some point and removed most of her clothes from the closet and drawers, so I everywhere I look I see signs of how alone I am. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Batman doesn’t show up for the next JL meeting, and I can’t say I’m surprised. He hasn’t called me, and any attempt I make to call him gets routed through Alfred or Oracle. Normally, he would contact me or J’onn when he knew he wasn’t going to make a meeting. This time, Ollie got a text. He was a confused as I was, since it was common knowledge Batman thought he was too incompetent to pass on a message. Everybody’s ready to dismiss the meeting and waiting for me to say the words, so I take a deep breath before saying those impossible words. 

“There is one more thing before we dismiss. I find myself under medical restriction for the next five months or so, and then I will be taking some time off.” The Flash laughs at my words, and offers a joke before I can continue. 

“What’s the matter Supes, Batman knock you up?” The room starts to laugh, but I think the crimson blush on my face stops them. Eyes not hidden behind lenses get wider and jaw muscles slacken as people wait for me to deny what the Flash just said. He’s actually one of the last people to realize his joke is true. And it gives me time to wish I could’ve seen Bruce’s reaction, even if it meant I had to tell him. 

“Say it ain’t so, Supes!” 

“Well, Flash, I was attempting to put it a little more delicately, but after an encounter with Poison Ivy, I was, you know, in Gotham…” I trail off as I realize my words aren’t explaining it right. What should I say? I love him and the Poison Ivy thing was coincidental? I don’t know what he feels for me, so I can’t tell them if it was more than Ivy’s influence. I hope nobody notices that distinction, so Flash speaks up again. 

“So you were fighting Ivy together, and both got a jolt of horny juice?” I was the one Ivy dosed, so how do I explain Bruce’s reaction to the JL? For now, I don’t. Leave that little task up to him, since he won’t even talk to me. 

“I’m not really ready to discuss the specific biological details of this; I just wanted to let you know. Batman will be in charge while I’m on…” Maternity leave just doesn’t want to come out of my mouth, so I change the words. “Away. I’ll see you at the next emergency.” 

While everybody recovers enough from their shock to speak, I give a cheery wave and leave the room. As the door closed behind me, I got out of there as fast as I could. Time, I tell myself, he just needs time. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

J’onn corners Batman after the first meeting he shows up for and then J’onn calls me over. We discuss surgical tools that need to be laced with Kryptonite in case I need help delivering. Batman absorbs the technical specifics but leaves without saying more than how long it will take to make them. J’onn and I watch with confusion as he goes, but I know J’onn feels the pain I can’t repress. 

“His shields have never been so strongly set against me.” 

“He needs time, right? To understand all this?” 

“I am unsure of what he needs, Kal. Perhaps thinking things through will help, perhaps his brain is getting in the way of his heart.” J’onn has a soft sigh, one that is hidden behind my heavy sigh. 

“I just hope he figures it out soon.” 

Batman shows up for the rest of the meetings, and I can feel the JL glancing between him and me. They want to know what’s going on, even as I grow bigger. Some of them ask me, but no one dares approach Batman about it. The Flash even restricts his comments around the new, angrier Bat, yet another reason for me to want Batman with me at all times. But he still won’t talk to me outside of official work requirements, and then it’s always Batman. I miss Bruce so much it’s like a physical ache. 

I think he’s coming around when a memo gets sent around the _Daily Planet_. The wording suggests someone Brucie cares about is getting made fun of for gaining weight and clearly sets down the procedure for what happens to the next person to mock his friend. I try to call him again, ostentatiously to thank him for that memo and get the same runaround. If he doesn’t care, why is he protecting me from stupid words that don’t even hurt? 

My last JL meeting before my maternity leave has turned into a surprise baby shower, and I’m having fun with my friends. Batman sits in the back of the room and glowers at us, like it’s a crime to celebrate a new life coming into the world. I’m kind of angry, half wishing he would just leave if he’s going to be like that. Some hopeful part of me is hoping he’s staying around to talk to me. The greatest gift a person could receive should never be that the father of their baby is going to talk to them. 

I’m angry about that as I thank everybody else for their gifts. They can’t even be bothered to listen to me, they all want to know what he’s going to give me. Most of them know who he is, and that this whole Watchtower is paid for by his money, but all of them know he’s an honorable man. When he leans down and picks up a black bag under his feet, I can’t push down the hope that they’re right. 

He tosses the bag at me as he leaves, and suddenly I hurt so bad I have to sit down. I have to breathe through the disappointment before I can force myself to unzip the bag. The lead boxes are labeled as to contents, so I don’t have to open them. I’m afraid that was his gift to me, when I pull out the third and last lead box. The manila envelope of papers underneath the lead looks harmless enough, so I slide the lead boxes to J’onn as I read the papers. Everybody is staring at me, wanting to know what this is all about. J’onn phases into the boxes so he can look without the Kryptonite affecting me. 

The first staple’s worth of papers is fine. Rich people set up trust funds for kids all the time and ten million is only a staggering number of zeros to blue collar folks like me. I’m not sure why he felt the second staple of papers was necessary, as I don’t see me burning through fifteen million in any number of lifetimes. But maybe it was so I would be taken care of, since he had no other ideas as what to give for a gift. Rich people go overboard with gifts all the time and I could always give it back. 

The third set of papers I had to read twice before I could get it into my brain what they said. A parental rights waiver that had Lois listed as the mother of our baby. Bruce knew everything, so how could he have missed it when our divorce was finalized? I had to turn to J’onn for an explanation of the last set, papers that had his civilian name listed as one of the people taking responsibility for the child. 

“J’onn?” He pulled his head out of the lead boxes to reply. 

“Batman did an excellent job of mixing the Kryptonite with the metal of the implements.” 

“J’onn?” Is all I can find to say in response to that, but something of the confusion and panic must have shown in my voice. J’onn looks at me, then reaches out to touch my mind and instantly understands what is wrong. His confusion is as great as mine, so he comes over to physically read the papers with his name on it. He turns to me to speak and I’ve forgotten the rest of the JL is even there. 

“I do not understand either, Kal-el.” 

“Well I’m going to find out.” 

Even J’onn is surprised by the growl in my voice as I cram the papers back into the bag and fly out of there. I’m so angry I want to track Batman down and force him to speak to me, but even as angry as I am I know that won’t work. I have to get through to Bruce and that means taking away Batman’s control. So I stop at a hardware store before heading to Gotham. 

I go to the door of the Manor and get Alfred to let me into the cave, just in case Batman has set his defenses against me. Alfred doesn’t say a thing out of place, but I can still hear him apologizing for everything Bruce has done in his tone. I pick a nice high spot in the cave to install the large hook before I go to Bruce’s collection of shackles. Things he keeps around to practice escaping from, and I’ll use them to show him he can’t escape from me. 

When I’m ready, I hang around the ceiling and wait for him to return. He’s getting out of the car when I swoop down and grab him. He only gets one instinctive defensive move in before he realizes who he’s fighting and stops. It penetrates my anger that if he hated me, he would have kept fighting and worked to keep his gear on. Instead he just takes it as I remove the cape, cowl and belt before using a pair of standard police issue handcuffs to hang him from the ceiling. I expect him to escape, dropping to the floor and making me catch him and bind him up with something more secure than handcuffs. He surprises me by not escaping; just hanging there like he deserves whatever is coming. I use the anger to fight back confusion as I bring the bag up to where he can see it. 

“What’s this?” 

“The surgical implements J’onn will need to take the baby out. Enhanced with kryptonite so they are in lead lined boxes only certain people can open.” 

I knew what those were for. Does he seriously think that’s the issue here? “I took those out. Gave them to J’onn. He was very pleased with the work you did. But him, me and everybody else in the JL, and most of the world has no idea what to make of the papers in the bag!” 

“OK, I thought the papers were self-explanatory, or else I would have made notes.” He shifts, but still doesn’t escape as he attempts to explain. He’s never been one of those rich people who thinks throwing money at a problem will make it go away, so I’m still confused and have to press for the right question to ask him. 

“Now explain the other papers to me.” 

“You’re kidding right?” And there’s the insulting, snarky tone I’ve grown dependent upon! He sounds like he really doesn’t see the issue here, so I’m left to find the words to explain it. But to make him suffer a little of what I’ve gone through, I plan to get my questions answered first. 

“What does J’onn have to do with any of this, or the lump as you so charmingly put it?” 

“When you told Lois, she asked if he ears grew when you…” He pauses and I fill in the rest of that sentence from the conversation I had with Lois. The anger drains away as I understand this is all a misunderstanding! I should have made this happen months ago and saved myself the worry. Bruce is still speaking, until I can’t hold back the giddy laughter. “I guess I assumed it was J’onn on flimsy evidence, I just thought you hung out with him more than Plastic Man or…”

He waits until I’ve stopped laughing to give me his snarkiest voice yet. “Well, maybe putting up with that guy is a new power. At least that’s what I’ll have to tell O’Brian when I see him.” 

I try to force myself to be angry again, I still have questions I want answered and Bruce is responding to this treatment. “What if it’s not O’Brian?” 

“If I have to make up parental wavier forms for every member of the league with ears, I’ll need use of my arms.” I shake my head at him; he can be kind of dense at times, especially about this emotional stuff. Now I have to find a logical, rational reason to make him listen to my words and his heart. 

“What would you do to Tim if he based an entire case on one overheard phone call?” I try to respond to his reply in a way that would make him think about it. I think he’s trying to change the topic, like hanging from a cave ceiling is the perfect time to discuss crop statistics, so I have to force it back on track. “Bruce, I think you’re missing the point.” 

He flushes a little at that, like a dirty thought passed through his mind. I’d really like to explore that but something more important is going on here. 

“Clark. Look at yourself. Look at what I did to you. It’s Kryptonian pregnancy hormones making you forget what I did to you.” 

I start to laugh at the wonder of Bruce feeling guilty for getting me pregnant, when what he said gets to me. Vocabulary is important and a well constructed sentence can turn a truth into a lie. Bruce knows this; it’s a skill he uses to keep both Brucie and Batman out of trouble. 

“Strange. You always say what you mean, even if you occasionally make it meaner or more hostile than what you need to. But you are also a master puppeteer of the truth. So when you say ‘what I did to you’ do you mean look what we did, or that you did something wrong?” I can see him freeze his face and stiffen his body at my words trying not to give anything away. Between us, that’s an answer in its own right, him not wanting to respond to my words. 

“I don’t have any blood in my arms. If I promise to continue speaking with you, would the ground be too much to ask?” His voice is pleasant and tries to promise he won’t run away the instant he’s set down. I know better but check his blood flow anyway. I dive down for the foot shackles I set aside earlier, hook him up and flip him over. My questions need answers before he gets any consideration from me. “Oh, this is much better.” 

I flip over so he has to look me in the eye and can’t lie to me. “You think you crossed a line. Which line did you cross, Bruce? Tell me that and I’ll consider letting you down.” 

“Clark, you were under Ivy’s influence and I took what I wanted instead of helping you. Since we know each other and you did not give informed consent, that’s legally, what’s known as, technically, date rape.” His eyes are closed and he’s finding words to put off his conclusions that much longer, he is so ashamed. 

I’m so far passed astounded I don’t even know a word for it. He thinks he raped me! He didn’t know I came to him, so he over thought the whole thing. It’s my fault; I left him alone in the dark too long! Left him down here while I tried to fix my life so we could be together instead of spending every waking moment telling him I loved him. 

“Bruce! No wonder you’ve been such an asshole lately!” There are other ways I could have gotten him down, but the hug was necessary for my soul. How much is he going to hate me when I tell him how badly I screwed this up? I put him in the cot and lay beside him to talk. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was lying!” 

More words follow as I show him my guilt, until Batman speaks. At first it scares me to hear that growl directed at me, but then I understand its Batman’s way of asking if he was still honorable. “The divorce, premeditated, final?” 

“Yes, the lump that broke the camel’s back or something.” Bruce is so close to believing that I can’t help but point out how much easier this would have been with a little communication. And a lot more sex, I have been really horny lately and he missed most of it. “Which you would know if you had talked to me since you sent me out of here. The entire JL was waiting for you to step up and accept responsibility, and you threw a bag of surgical instruments at me!” 

“Papers showed my responsibility, took away my wants.” Not took away his rights, like a justice obsessed man should say, but took away his wants. He wanted to be with me and our baby, but thought he didn’t deserve it! 

“So justice is fair and balanced scales? Turnabout is fair play, and other cliché’s as well?” I move to straddle his waist and he closes his eyes. A super quick shift and I’m naked on him. Clearly a bad idea as I have to fight back the horny hormones and move his hands to the baby, and not the anatomy that got us into this situation. I see the wants in his face as he strokes us there with his eyes closed. “There is a traditional punishment for what you’ve done.” 

His hands move away and his eyes open after I speak. The guilty look is heartbreaking, and I expect Batman to tell me to leave when he speaks. “Whatever you want Clark.” 

I want him, and now he’s offering me whatever I want? Well, I’ll teach him not to make random offers like that. “My due date is next Wednesday. I want Alfred to organize things for this weekend, he has taste. And I want him and my father holding shotguns, as an inside joke for the JL members on the guest list. You will pay to get everybody, first class at least; to a state that recognizes gay marriage.” 

I think he’ll laugh at me, tell me it’s impossible and that I’ve asked too much. He doesn’t do all the things they think he does, but he had enough of Brucie in him to get that reputation. I steel myself for the words he’s going to use to find a compromise to that proposal, and he throws away the handcuffs. Then he pulls me into a kiss and once again he has surprised me. That’s what he does, challenges me, surprises me, makes me think about things in a new way. He pulls away to whisper at me, and his words make me lose all muscle control. 

“Get me out of this suit, lover.” I’m a lump against his body while all my blood tries to enter my penis at the same time. 

“Oh, thank Rao!” I can’t help a grateful prayer before pulling off the rest of the Bat-suit. I have to tell him what the night holds in store for him, but all I can come up with is a final question. “Do you have any idea how horny you can get when pregnant?” 

Fire spills from his eyes but he moves and puts me on the cot. Before I can protest that I miss his eyes, he’s going down on me behind the hump of our baby. I don’t know how he did that with his feet still in those shackle things but his tongue is…

_“Kal-el?”_

J’onn’s telepathic voice interrupts my thoughts, reminding me of what my body is doing right now, and the pain I was trying to forget by visiting my memories. _“Yes J’onn?”_

“I do not think now is a good time to have those thoughts, as your body has enough to do without reliving the joy of sex.” 

“Right, thank you J’onn.” I feel his amusement before he pulls away, so I go for a non-sex happy thought. 

We managed to migrate up the stairs at some point, so we were in Bruce’s bed when Alfred found us. Getting under the covers would have involved effort that could have been used on sex, so we hadn’t bothered. Alfred woke us with sunlight as he pulled back the curtains, and I tried to cover my naked, pregnant body with a sleepy Bruce. He took in the situation and turned to look at Alfred, supremely unconcerned about his nudity. Alfred didn’t look aware of it either as he poured coffee and brought it to us. Two cups of coffee, as if he knew Bruce wasn’t alone this morning. 

“Alfred, I find myself needing to get married before Clark’s due date. Do you think you could arrange that? This weekend would be best.” Alfred gave a delicate sniff before replying in a noncommittal tone. 

“As long as Master Clark does not object to the preparations I have already made, a Sunday afternoon wedding should be sufficient.” Bruce sat up to accept his coffee cup, and I used a pillow to hide behind. Were all butlers this used to nudity or was it just because Alfred had changed Bruce’s diapers? 

“How could you have made preparations, when we only figured this out four hours ago?” I’ve always been amazed at Alfred; I swear the man is telepathic. I keep asking questions hoping he will admit it to me someday. 

“When Master Bruce informed me of the situation, I knew you would eventually convince him to do the right thing. Lunch is ready, but I expect a guest list before you come down.” An incline of the head and Alfred left us alone, to dress and figure out who to invite. 

Instead Bruce moved the pillow and started, well that wasn’t an un-sexy thought so I should move along. After lunch, Alfred shows me what he has planned and Bruce goes to work to arrange his schedule so he could take time off. I was supposed to be at a writing clinic in Cleveland, so I listened to that with one ear and Alfred with the other. I was right though, Alfred has excellent taste. 

Bruce gets home in time for some more sexy thoughts to edit before supper, and then he goes on patrol. I write up a guest list and listen to him explain it to his kids. Even with him hiding behind Batman I can still hear the wonder and joy in his voice, and his kids hear it too. They agree with Alfred, that they knew he would get here eventually. Except for Cass, who doesn’t understand marriage and asks for a demonstration of gay sex, in her wordless way. Bruce tells her to ask the Green Arrow, and I’m too busy laughing to call and tell him that’s an evil thing to do. It’s also why Ollie sits as far away as possible from her at the ceremony. 

Private planes shuttle everybody to Edgartown, Massachusetts, and limos take us to a classically elegant hotel. It’s a Sunday morning and people have nothing better to do than stare at the limos driving by, and my parents in the limo have nothing better to do than stare at me. They’re happy for me, but still confused and I don’t know what to tell them. They’ve never meet Bruce but have read stories about Batman and Brucie that are far more convincing than my words. Bruce went on patrol last night and I haven’t seen him since. 

Alfred took measurements that first day in the Manor and when we get to the hotel, the staff hands me a garment bag. Inside is a brilliant white tuxedo that fits better than anything I’ve ever owned. I put it on, but am kind of offended. I’m enormously pregnant, a divorcee, a guy and yet I’m in the bride’s changing room wearing white! Alfred chooses that moment to knock on the door and I call him in with a growl in my tone. He’s got a long, thin package he hands to my father before he turns to me to check the fit. 

“Why is it white?” I ask, and only his professionalism stops him from giving me The Bat-Look I see lurking in his eyes. 

“Most Americans associate white with virginity, but it does have other traditional meanings. White is the color of goodness, purity and perfection, all goals which you strive for. White can also represent a successful beginning. Likewise, black is not only a symbol for death and mystery, it has to do with elegance and formality.” Alfred presents this lecture on the meanings of color, and I’m suddenly embarrassed. 

“Sorry Alfred, I guess I’m nervous.” 

“Perhaps it would ease your worries if I was to inform you that Master Bruce is in a similar state across the hall. Mistress Cassandra suggested a nerve pinch, and Master Dick told him to take a ‘chill pill’ while Master Timothy snickers at him. I should get back there before the suggested nerve pinch is applied to Master Timothy.” 

Alfred leaves and I laugh at the image he’s left me with, before I have to explain to my father why Alfred brought him a shotgun. I tell him it was a joke and he doesn’t have to do it, but then the wedding planner is there, and music is starting. It’s not the traditional ‘here comes the bride’ crap, that would have been too much. It’s a hopeful, joyous classical piece I can’t identify just yet. 

I peak through the walls and see my father and Alfred bracketing the alter with the shotguns over their arms. The members of the JL in their civilian clothes, laugh at the sight, but the people here for Clark Kent don’t understand and try not to look confused at the weirdness around them. Perry and Jimmy are here as my friends, not the media. The photographers are here to take pictures for us, not for the newspapers. I’m sure they’ll wind up in the newspapers soon enough, confirmed bachelor Brucie Wayne getting gay married in Massachusetts defiantly counts as news! The story of Batman knocking up Superman and marrying him? That would sell more than a few papers. 

Then somebody is opening the door and gesturing for me to exit, so I do. I don’t know what to feel so I settle on not feeling anything. Bruce is stepping out of his door too, and from Alfred’s lecture I expected an elegant and formal Bruce in a black tuxedo. I thought he was beautiful before, but the white tux makes his hair darker and his eyes so light they almost don’t have any color. He looks ethereal and I close the distance between us for a kiss. 

The crowd laughs, reminding us of their presence before those hormones kick in and I have to pull him out of that tux. We turn and walk toward our fathers as Alfred instructed us the other day. I reply to the Justice of the Peace’s words without hesitation and turn to see Bruce say them. He hesitates and turns to me, while my brain starts to panic. His voice is for my ears only and if he thinks he’s going to back out at this point he has a fight coming! 

“Only for you do I regret what I am.” The fool doesn’t seem to understand that I love what he is! Telling me he wants to be a better man for me. Honestly, if he was any better he’d be worshiped as a deity! But he turns back the Justice and speaks those two little words I’ve apparently been waiting a lifetime for him to say. “I do.” 

I’m so relieved that it must have reached the crowd, because they’re all making sounds of relief behind us. More words and we finally have permission to kiss, so I don’t think about letting go until the baby kicks. I break away to grin at him and raw joy is in his eyes. Our bodies were so close he felt the kick in his abdomen too! 

The Justice says something else but all I hear is the Wayne-Kent part of it. I never even thought about the last name thing while I was looking up names. But there are guests to talk to and a meal to get through before we retire to the honeymoon suite for three nights of sexy thoughts I can’t dwell on right now. Then Batman brought me to the Watchtower so I would be here when the baby came, and runs off and leaves me! 

Now I feel like my skin is trying to rip apart as something crawls out of it, so I look and see it really is happening! The skin around my belly button has developed a gash that I can see a foot kicking out of. And it hurts, even with J’onn dampening my pain receptors, but not nearly as much as the idea that Bruce isn’t here for this! He’s an expert in causing pain and still forgets how much emotions can hurt. I never even told him the sex of the baby, thinking at least that mystery would bring him to me when I needed him. The pain increases as a tiny hand reaches out and I want to scream, because surely that will make me feel better. 

_“Relax, Kal-el. Do not watch this and it might not hurt as much.”_ J’onn’s telepathic advice before he reaches for the baby, and he’s right, I don’t want to see his hands going in there! I drop my head down to the table and instead of screaming away my remaining masculinity I only growl out a word. 

“Bruce!” 

“I’m here, Clark!” I look and he is here, he’s coming through the door and the pain recedes to a tolerable level. There’s dried blood on his face and purple goo on his bat-suit but he is here! Before he can reach my outstretched hand, J’onn interrupts. 

“Batman, would you care to do the honors?” 

We both turn to look, and J’onn is holding the baby in one arm and the Kryptonite laced scalpel in the other. Bruce reaches for the scalpel and I can’t see his face because of the mask. Suddenly I know the goo is the blood from whatever unfortunate invaders chose today to come between the Bat and his family. Bats really do have an excellent mothering instinct. 

“No, Bruce!” I manage to sputter out and with a glance at me he understands. 

The gloves are dropped to the floor and the cowl comes off, so it’s Bruce who cuts the umbilical cord and helps J’onn clean up the bodily fluids. The noise isn’t as loud as I expected, so maybe the baby has my ears and already understands that much noise hurts. 

The AI said I would reabsorb the placenta so I don’t have to worry about the afterbirth. I get to lay back and watch Bruce and the wonder on his face. The gash is closing and the sunlamps are taking away the remembered pain, but I’m still very tired. I expect him to turn to me with a white bundle as the medical supplies on the Watchtower aren’t exactly gender specific, but the bundle he brings me is pink. I try to be outraged or even surprised and find I’m not. 

“How did you know? I asked J’onn to hide that information!” 

I get a soft smile at my words and it reaches his eyes. “He tried, and almost succeeded.” 

I’m grinning like an idiot but I take the bundle from him and look at our daughter. Black cowlick of hair and blue eyes, somewhere between our shades as she blinks and screams at the newness around her. If those eyes are the same color as his, the world will be in trouble when she grows up, because I’ll be beating off suitors with uprooted trees! 

J’onn brings over a bottle of something and Bruce tries to hand it off to me. He’s holding it with his thumb and first finger, and I realize I’ve finally found something he doesn’t know about! All his kids came to him when they were well beyond this stage, and even then he had Alfred to assist. I’m sure he’s read books, but theory is always different than practice. 

“I didn’t develop lactating breasts, which means you get to help feed her.” 

“Her who?” He asks as he aims the bottle’s nipple for her soft little lips. He misses because she turns her head to scream at me and has to slide it over. 

“I was thinking, if it’s ok with you, Arlene Martha Wayne-Kent.” 

“Arlene?” He doesn’t sound like he doesn’t like it, it sounds like he’s trying it out on his tongue. 

“It’s one of the few words that means something in English and Kryptonian, but if you don’t like it we can change it.” He looks at me expectantly as he holds the bottle for her. “Here, it means an oath. Much like my oath to you last Sunday, she is your oath to stay with me. On Krypton it means, well it sounds corny when I say it out loud, but it’s really beautiful in context. It means bridge made of love.” 

He grins at me before speaking. “I was more concerned with other kids making fun of the name than what it meant. But when you make sappy comments like that, it seems I can’t help but give in to you. Besides, I know a few moves that will keep people from ever mocking her, or God forbid, trying to date her.” 

I swallow my laughter and try for a reasonable tone. “I’m glad you also noticed that problem, and trust sixteen years will give you adequate planning time. If she winds up with your eyes and my personality, people will fight wars for her.” 

“If she gets my brains, she’ll know how to stop those wars before they start.” Bruce slips easily back into the pattern we held for so long of teasing being the only affection we showed each other. 

“And when I get enough energy to use my heat vision, you’ll never have to worry about birth control again.” He looks like he has a snarky comeback to that, but shifts to run his free hand through his sweaty hair. 

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to work on that, when you feel up to it.” He’s suddenly far too serious and I don’t like it in this room right now. I pull my left hand free from Arlene and grab the belt so he can’t escape me. 

“Bruce, I feel up to it right now. You turn me on so hard I had to fight down an erection while giving birth! I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I want more. More of you and more children with you. If one of the consequences of that is me feeling a desire for sex all the time, you’ll just have to suck it up!” 

I realize what I just suggested and flush, but he’s laughing and I’m laughing with him. He leans down to kiss me, carefully and awkwardly so as not to squash little Arlene. I’m about to suggest he finds a babysitter so I can prove my words to him, when J’onn breaks in on our little family moment. 

“Batman, you are dripping fluids on the sanitary floor of the medical facility. Kal, I do not believe you are as ready for that activity as you think.” Bruce pulls away and gives me a shrug, so I take the bottle from him. 

“I’ll go clean up, but if you need rest you get it. I’ll do the reports on the mission, but you call me if you need anything.” It’s almost a Bat-command to call him for any little thing I want. 

“Don’t worry, I will be calling for you.” The grin he gives me doesn’t leave his face as he turns and walks out the door, cowl down. The door slides open to show the entire JL standing there, waiting for news. My Bruce doesn’t try to hide from them, by pulling up the cowl or growling them into submission. He speaks loudly and doesn’t hide the love in his voice. 

“Arlene Martha Wayne-Kent.” 

Arlene tries to drown out their roar of approval with a squall of her own, but nobody notices when they come in to congratulate me. I get a solid half hour of friends passing around my baby before her father returns. He’s showered and changed into civilian clothes, and chases people out so I can rest, but holds her until we both find sleep. I don’t know why I should sleep, when there is nothing left to dream about. As sappy as it sounds, all my dreams have come true! 


End file.
